


Building Bridges, Ruining Souls

by KenjiroS



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Sick Character, Slavic mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenjiroS/pseuds/KenjiroS
Summary: Tetsurou just wanted to go home. The stranger eyeing the water from the top of the bridge wall disagreed.





	Building Bridges, Ruining Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a few things here. One, I would like to thank my two incredible betas. SkyfirePrism, for going over it and pointing out the big things that were off or weird, which is the only way I can do quality editing. And, of course, the amazing Rider_of_Spades who went over it with such a fine-toothed comb I was in tears of the sight of my terrible grammar. Let me tell you, good betas are worth their weight in gold.
> 
>  
> 
> Two, I tried, so hard, to make this romance....And I failed. No romance, no hinter romance, no "romance if you squint", no nothing. Plot happened.
> 
> Three, it it's a kind of police AU and it starts as a "long and boring/quiet night/shift" you know it's me who wrote it. Because variety is for noobs.

The night was more than gorgeous. The city was quiet and the new bridge was shining like a beacon, bathed in lights and a warm glow. It was late enough, or early, he considered, that the only people wandering around were people going home from clubs and the odd salaryman who had hours upon hours of commute ahead of them. It was four in the morning, the sun would be rising soon and he was enjoying the quiet.

 Tetsurou looked around and then stepped onto the bridge. The city’s shiny new pride and joy. Marble under his feet, streetlights that masqueraded as traditional candlesticks, and wrought iron fences. Everything looked handmade, too. It was a beautiful piece of architecture and, for some reason, he didn’t like it. Kenma had just shrugged last time he’d mentioned it but after that, they’d gone to the café across the river only twice and his friend had managed to get them to cross through one of the other bridges, taking a huge detour. And while he appreciated it…

The night was more than still. The city was drowning in shadow and sharp contrasts, the outline of skyscrapers black against the inky sky. His steps had gone silent and the bright lights were obscuring everything outside of the steps of the bridge. It was like he was alone in the whole world. That was…wrong. True, it was really, really early, but still, there should had been other people, too. He looked around again.

 The water looked black from up there. Still. There should had been other…

 - Hey ! Hey, you ! – The figure turned in his direction. Damn, he hadn’t had time to run in the morning the last few days and it showed. But at least the guy didn’t seem too keen to jump into the river, so maybe he wasn’t too late. – Look, whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t. Not worth it. Come ~~one~~ on…

 - But I wasn’t doing anything. – And the man had the audacity to grin. – Officer.

 - Jumping into a river…

 - I wasn’t going to jump. It’s too annoying to try to get back up here, and it gets cold. Water’s nasty, too. – The man sounded suspiciously like he’d already tried jumping. And Tetsurou most definitely did not like that.

 - Come down here, you look like you’re freezing. – That got him a shrug. A denim jacket and skinny jeans might have been acceptable a month ago but summer was over and Tetsurou could almost taste the chill in the air… The guy was clearly shaking in his thin sneakers. Overall, he looked like a frat boy that had slept off a hangover a couple of months too long.

 - Wouldn’t matter. – Dark eyes met his from under a blond fringe. – Can’t get warm anymore.

  And then the man laughed. It was a loud, sharp sound and Tetsurou felt it freeze his bones. Oh, no.

 Insanity.

  He’d seen it too many times, right before people jumped from windows or bit a gun. People beyond thinking point or understanding. Empty shells, he’d heard them describe it as “static in their heads” and “static in their vision”. He couldn’t leave his TV on when his cable was down anymore. Reaching for the man’s wrist, he snagged him, pulling him sharply back and down into his own chest and crashing down onto the road. The breath whooshed out of his lungs, but the stranger was solid and warm in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

  Turning to the side, he tried to both release the man and still keep a hold on him in case he went for the edge again, but there didn’t seem to be such a danger. He sat down on the sidewalk, docile, with a small smile and dark eyes partially hidden behind his long blond hair. Tetsurou coughed, trying to force his lungs to work. The man appeared to be on the slight side, but was heavier than he looked, and solid. There was probably lots of compact muscle under the trendy clothes and cheerful smiles.

 

He didn’t trust the smiles.

 

 - Are you alright ? – The man just cocked his head like a bird and kept smiling. Tetsurou still didn’t trust that smile. The stranger just got up and offered his hand. Allowing himself to be pulled, he patted the dust off his clothes and ~~then~~ looked back at the other man. – You shouldn’t stand on ledges.

  A shrug.

 - It’s not like it would do anything. – What was that supposed to mean?

 - What’s your name? – Okay, definitely not his smoothest transition but he had to keep the guy talking. He was not in the mood to dive off of the bridge into the turbulent black waves underneath, but if the man jumped, he, well, he would. He was a decent swimmer, and it was more than obvious there was something odd going on here.

 - Terushima Yuuji, at your service.

 

  The night was more than distant. They stood by the wall of the bridge, leaning on it and watching the city lights. Like fireflies, the twinkles of glitter in the heavy distance made the world seem too far away to be comprehensible. Tetsurou breathed out. No stars, no moon, no cars, no people. It was like time had stopped. Only the gentle wind twined around his ankles, carrying the heavy scent of jasmine and pine, and playing with the stranger’s hair. They were both looking out at the black water, breathing in the night, not talking. And it was getting awkward.

 - So, what are you doing here? – Great job, not weird at all. He tried not to grimace too much and scare the stranger away. That got him another shrug.

 - Can’t go home. – Oh. A runaway. He was a bit older than the usual types they got, but still. He didn’t know anything about the man or his story.

 - Do you need a place to crash? Because I know a shelter, and it’s clean and…

 - Nope. – He grinned at him and there was something so…off about the expression that Tetsurou couldn’t even begin to place it. – Can’t leave the bridge. – And because his face was probably as confused as he felt, the stranger sighed, dropping the smile. – There is some sort of…force. Like a wall. Can’t cross it.

  Now, Tetsurou was about as suspicious as every other cop, and just as superstitious, ~~and yet~~ but this was taking it a bit too far. A force that stopped a flesh-and-blood man from stepping outside of a bridge? He didn’t think he could be blamed for not believing.

  - Wanna see? – Did he? Not that he had a choice, with how fast the stranger was walking away.

  - Hey, wait a second… - All he could do was run after the man. At least he wasn’t heading for the ledge this time. Small graces…He could still run, though, and his footsteps were strangely quiet against the marble. And, again, there were no other people. Where were the people?

  He caught up to the man right at the end of the bridge, when said man stopped like he’d hit a wall. Tetsurou walked around him, looking for signs of shock or…he didn’t know what but people didn’t just stop like that.

 - See ? – He held out his hand, palm to the endless city ~~land~~ scape, and grinned.

 - What am I supposed to see ? – The man shook his head, smile still in place. At least it didn’t look as wide and off as before, so small graces, he thought. And then…

  The stranger took half a step back, raised both hands to shoulder level, pretended to press and then leaned forward. On thin air. What the… Pushing himself away while Tetsurou just stood there with his mouth hanging open, the guy took another step back, turned around and leaned. And…

 

  The night was more than cloying. Tetsurou was sitting on his bed, his attention only half on Kenma annihilating virtual monsters on their huge TV, and thought. Of a man imprisoned on a bridge, held inside by a wall, a prisoner of nature and stone and marble. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the guy, no, he had a name, Terushima, leaning back on thin air like there’d been a solid wall behind him. That was a trick one couldn’t just fake. And if they could, why wait for the middle of the night to show it to random people walking on a new bridge? He still felt like his eyes had cheated him, but he’d tried, grabbed him by the hand and tried to drag him off the ground and away from the bricks and marble of the cursed bridge…and he’d felt the very real resistance of something stopping them both.

  Tetsurou rubbed his face. What a mess. A ghost on a bridge? Since Terushima had mentioned jumping off to see what would happen and feeling the cold water, he guessed that’s what he was. Only, he’d been warm and solid against him when he’d tackled him the very first time he’d laid his eyes on him, so…What did he know, anyway ? Weren’t other creatures supposed to guard bridges, too? Trolls and…He couldn’t remember anything else. But Terushima Yuuji was not guarding the damned thing. He wanted to get away from it. Fuck.

 At least he had a name. Terushima had been dressed like all the trendy young men who flocked around the local university, so whatever had happened to him couldn’t have had been too long ago. He paused for a moment to consider that he was thinking about ghost hunting, but then he did know one Akaashi Keiji who had nothing normal or ordinary about him, and Kenma who tended to stare at walls and empty hallways a lot, so who was he to question things like that ? Nobody. So, who was he…

 - Hey, Kenma. – No reaction but he knew he’d been heard. – Can you try to find someone for me ? I can’t find him in the dead people lists. – He knew he should had been more respectful but these few years as a detective had taught him that gallows humour was often imperative in preventing from going mad. – Terushima Yuuji. Around your age.

  Still no response. He sighed and got up. Better to make some tea since one never knew with his childhood friend. Kenma moved by his own clock, timezone and season. He’d learnt not to disturb him and, in turn, Kenma was a quiet, clean roommate who shuffled around like a shadow and left little bits of wires and chips in the odd flower pot. It was symbiosis, Tetsurou thought.

  Two hours later, he was chewing his pencil while sweating over a crossword when a sheet of paper dropped on top of the newspaper. Glancing up, it took him a moment to focus on his best friend’s bright gaze and ~~then~~ to remember the paper.

 - You found…

 - You were looking in the wrong place. – He’d been doing what?

 - Kenma…

 - He’s not dead. Not yet.

 - What do you mean? – Kenma gave a slow blink, painfully bright eyes almost black from his wide pupils, and cocked his head to one side.

 - He’s on life support. Has been for the last two weeks, actually. Brain activity is decreasing. – A shrug. – They are talking about shutting it off.

 - Pulling the plug? – But he was young and happy and… - How old is he? – Because what if ghosts remained at some odd age they remembered or wanted, and not their actual age…

 - Same as me. – Shit. He’d hoped for something more…stomachable.

 - What’s wrong with him ? – Kenma looked down at the paper on the table but didn’t comment on it. Just took a seat, stole Tetsurou’s mug and sloshed the tea inside. – Kenma.

 - They don’t know. He just got sick one day and 72 hours later he was in a coma. – Three days. Three days of sickness…Three days. Where had he seen that recently?

  Three days. A miracle, they called it. From a ruin to…

 - When did he fall into a coma ?

 - Told you, Kuro… - He waved to stop Kenma. Who only blinked again. Slowly.

 - Date.

 - The seventh. – The seventh. He flipped the case of his phone open and scrolled down the news… Where was it…

  _Local bridge opens on the seventh…After falling and breaking down and blocking the river, suddenly, the bridge is completed in only three days…A genius architect declares he will finish it in only three days, and succeeds…_

  He read a little more, but it was all the same. Pushing his phone towards Kenma, he stole his mug back and sipped the cold tea. Too sweet. Oh, well.

 - What’s going on, Kenma ? – A shrug. – How did you find him? – Kenma just rolled his eyes like Tetsurou’s question had almost been too stupid to even consider responding to.

 - If he’s not dead, but is a spirit, there aren’t that many options. Dead or dying. Or something completely different, but I got lucky.

 - Which hospital?

 - Kuroo…

 - Kenma. – Another sigh. Kenma burrowed into a hoodie that Tetsurou recognised as his, and produced another scrap of paper from…somewhere.

   - Don’t do anything rash. – A pause. – Too rash.

He grinned.

 - It’s like you don’t know me.

 

  The night was more than chilly. After a full day of trying not to punch some smug rich guy and his even smugger and slightly less rich lawyer, Tetsurou found himself in front of a desk with a nurse who definitely wasn’t having the night of her life. He tried again.

 - Yuuji? Blond guy, cheerful? Kind of small? – She narrowed her eyes at him but he was right. Terushima Yuuji was, objectively, shorter than him, which allowed him to refer to him, and everyone else, as “tiny”. It was one of the perks of spending high school as a big and useful middle blocker. He’d learnt how to use his height to his greatest advantage.

 - Terushima-san is…

 - I know. – He kept his face as calm as possible, not letting anything show in case she was wavering. Come on… - But I’ve known him since forever and just got back to the country…It’s such a terrible thing to happen…And all that drama with his sister…

  Thank the gods for Kenma’s amazing skills in acts of disobeying the law. Text messages, private posts, even nurses’ gossip. Oh, he did know all about the family’s skeletons. And the sleaze who was the latest addition to both. Terushima truly had ended up with a nightmare for a brother in law.

 - I guess…But only for a few minutes. He is not alone in the room and…

 - No one will know I was in there. – And then he smiled as widely as possible. Where was… The nurse flushed and averted her eyes, directing her gaze somewhere to the space above a bookshelf.

 - 305. The lifts are on the left. – He nodded and headed for them as quietly as possible. No need to push his luck.

    The corridor was dark. Even the night nurses were huddling in their little rooms. The air felt like fingers going through his clothes and he didn’t appreciate how ominous the atmosphere felt. It allowed too much time for thinking. A creak here, a rustle there. Shadows chased each other down tiled halls and barren rooms. Abandoned beds and broken bones, the cloying decay rising beneath the surface. Impressions, nothing more than memories that weren’t even his, but they clung to his vision like spiderwebs and burned through his skin. And yet, he kept thinking.

  A man dying, a bridge rising. The more the man fell, the stronger the bridge stood. And the one connection, the brother-in-law, was too obvious to ignore. Was it magic? Rituals? Blood craft? He made a mental note to call Bokuto and ask him and Akaashi to lunch tomorrow. Akaashi would know. He’d never asked but the man tended to wear lots of white and spend way too long in the woods. Tetsurou didn’t really want to know, but, well, one noticed things like that.

 Room 305. He took a deep breath and pushed the door. No creepy creaking, though the low lights more than made up for it. The room itself was just as strangely lit. Two beds, the low hum of machines. The slow rustle of breath from the bed closer to the door. Tetsurou walked past it. The other bed was hidden with curtains and he was strangely scared to pull them open. He saw dead people often enough, but this felt wrong. He’d seen the man the night before, and he’d looked happy and chirpy and alive. This…would be something else. He exhaled and touched the fabric.

 

  The night was more than lonely. The man in the bed was hooked to more wires than it looked necessary. He was small, Tetsurou thought through a hazy mind. True, he knew exactly how short Terushima was, but this sallow husk with skin like paper over painfully sharp cheekbones looked impossibly tiny. He knew that if he touched the arm on the bedcover closer to him, his fingers would close around the other man’s wrist. He glanced up to the door and the other bed, and walked around to see better.

  The hair spilling over the pillow was a warm golden colour, with black in the roots counting off the seconds like an hourglass. He knew how to read those, he almost smiled sadly. Kenma was the perfect test subject for one to learn the fine art of scrying on a dye job. And now his radar was not telling him anything good.

  Too sharp, everything on him was too sharp, like his entire being was trying to escape the decaying shell of his body. The hair didn’t look much longer though the black told a different story. But his weight. He looked like there was nothing on him. It had been only two weeks, and sickness for a few days before that. The cheerful man on the bridge had energy, and actual mass. The few times he’d bumped into Tetsurou, he’d felt real and strong and tangible. The body in the bed looked like one wrong breath could break it in two. He swallowed.

  There was nothing he could do here, not really. He’d just wanted to come and see with his own eyes. Yeah. He had to leave, now, before someone who actually paid attention showed up. Something wrong caught his eye just as he was about to leave. Something irregular. What was it…

 - Who are you and what, the fuck, are you doing with my brother? – Caught.

 

    The night was more than breathless. He sat there, Akaashi Keiji looking down at him with narrow eyes and hands in his pockets, and considered the life choices that had gotten him there. Behind him, on the desk, was one Bokuto Koutarou with his legs crossed and a wide smile.

 - I had to come and bail you out because you were harassing some dying boy in a hospital in the middle of the night. You are a detective, Kuroo-san. I shouldn’t waste my time on…

 - I can cover your fees, no worries. – Light eyes narrowed even more at his tone, Bokuto slowly getting up behind his lover.

 - Now, Kuroo…

 - What I was trying to say, Kuroo-san, and I know you understood me just fine, was that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable. Can you at least give me a reason? Call it... – He paused. Tetsurou would be unnerved, but he knew the other man, knew his ways and manners, and also lived with Kenma. No one could beat Kenma at heavy pauses and silent glaring. – Curiousity.

 - Allow me to respond with a question on my own.

 - I asked…

 - Why would a man go as far as murder to have a bridge withstand the river? – Silence. Good. He loved Bokuto and Akaashi like brothers but right now they didn’t have time.

 - Kuroo, what are you…

 - Found it. – He turned so fast his neck popped, not even hearing the end of Bokuto’s sentence. Kenma, in a sweater that, for once, fit, was in the doorway, eyes huge.

 - You figured it out? – A small nod. – He looked at the other two. Akaashi had crossed his arms, foot tapping, while Bokuto was leaning back on the desk, waiting. People often thought Akaashi to be silent hunter but they’d never seen the man’s lover on the prowl. It was both fascinating and terrifying.

 - It’s old. Really old. Can’t find it here. The only information came from a couple of poems that don’t even exist in English and some random girl’s blog post. – So not reliable at all. Still. They didn’t have a choice. – It’s what you thought. They buried his shadow under the bridge. A life for a life. – Kenma shrugged. – Eternity for eternity.

  That was all good and all, but…

 - He’s not dead. – His best friend shook his head again. – Why?

 - It’s supposed to be a precious sacrifice. I guess that’s why it’s taking time.

 - Doesn’t really matter. His fucking brother-in-law is trying to kill him so that his project will not fall into the river. Fucker… - He couldn’t find it in himself to care about how little Bokuto and Akaashi appeared disturbed by his words. All he could think about was monitors timing out a waning life, like a candle cut in half, too short, too soon, too early. Unfair, that’s what it was. He’d seen people cut down for less, but such a bright light to be blown away for a man’s greed and sick ambition?

 - Kuroo… - He turned. Kenma’s face was still passive but a muscle under his eye was twitching and that didn’t bode well for anyone. – There’s more.

 - What? – He realised his mistake the moment it was too late to take it back. Kenma huffed. – Sorry. Please…keep going. – A sigh. Good. He was forgiven. Maybe.

 - There is a storm coming. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Saw the news, we won’t be able to avoid it.

   - Okay…?

 - The bridge won’t hold, Kuroo. Not the way it is right now. Not without the complete ritual. Not without…

 - Not without an actual sacrifice. – Kenma nodded slowly. He considered screaming into a pillow but it wouldn’t do anything to help him. Fuck. They were going to kill him. He was going to kill him. To speed up the process. To finish it off. Fuckity fuck.

 - What if we…reverse it?

 - Can’t. It’s a shadow, it’s… - Kenma looked around, obviously searching for the right words. – A symbol. Nothing physical. In the past, it was supposed to be an object but later… - An object. Something from the sacrifice. Something that belonged to Terushima.

 - Let’s go. – Three pairs of bright eyes blinked at him. – We have to find it. Now. Because if Terushima’s death is necessary for the fucking bridge to stay where it is, and a storm is coming, the bastard will decide to speed up the process. Although, if it falls, maybe it will…

 - Not how it works. – Akaashi was wrapping himself in a light scarf, looking as much like a model as ever. – It will simply drain the sacrifice. He’ll die anyway, only it will be for nothing.

 - It’s still for nothing! – He hadn’t realised he’d screamed until Bokuto was stepping around Akaashi and raising his palms, obviously trying to placate him and protect his lover at the same time. – Even if that pile of bricks is humanity’s last hope against zombies or something, it still won’t be worth an innocent life. Nothing is.

 - I was just trying to tell you that if we’re going to do something, we have to do it now. Literally. Now, if it’s a buried shadow, things get complicated…

 - It’s not. – Akaashi cocked his head to the side. – It’s…It’s his finger. It’s his actual finger. Part of it, at least. He was missing the last knuckle of his pinky in the hospital but had all his fingers intact on the bridge. And why is he there, anyway?

 - We can talk in the car. – Bokuto stepped around them. – Now, we have to go, right?

 

The night was more than heavy. Again, there were no people. Nobody. Just lights, black water and shiny marble. He didn’t want to even approach the damned thing but they had to. They had no choice.

 - He’s not dead yet, he’s fighting it, so he hasn’t crossed over. The sacrifice isn’t complete. – Bokuto stared into the horizon. From all of them, to have him say it, especially with such a tone…It was terrible. Tetsurou sighed, breath fogging in the night chill. It was too cold, too quiet, too heavy, too humid, too dry, too loud in his head, too… How were they going to find it? A tiny piece of decayed flesh and bone in an entire bridge. It would be impossible.

 - It’s here. – They looked at the same time. Akaashi was kneeling by one of the heavy cement pillars, a pocket knife in his hand.

 - What ?

 - This thing here? It had the strongest energy. It should be here somewhere… Help me dig, it doesn’t seem to be that deep in the ground…

 

  The night was more than electric. It fizzed through his skin, bubbled in his lungs and set his blood running. Akaashi was unsettled, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, while Bokuto was walking like he was going to war. Tetsurou, on the other hand, felt calm. True, it was because he felt like he was in a haze and everything was blurred and soft and unclear, but he was stable. In his hand, in a dirty handkerchief, was a man’s finger. He could feel the wetness seeping through the flimsy fabric and dripping through his fingers, but he couldn’t care less. It was his to return. His to give back. His to accuse.

  There was no night nurse, at least not at the desk. The four of them walked through, following the path he knew, and the lights. The voices. Why were there voices?  He didn’t know. Or care. He had to give it back.

  Inside, it was bright. There were two people talking softly, papers shuffling, and a dying body in a bed. Still dying. Fuck.

  He’d been so sure, so confident, so optimistic… But Terushima Yuuji was still waning and all of his efforts had been for nothing. Damn it. Damn. It.

  The small TV in the room was playing some black and white film and something in it caught his attention.

 - Hey, who are you?

 - Wait, aren’t you the guy who was here last time? Bastard, what do you want with my brother? Haven’t had enough?  Pervert! Damned…

  But it was all drowned out by a man’s scream. By a man’s wail of pain. By a man on his knees, pulling on his own hair.

  Because on the little TV, the news ~~were~~ was showing live a great big bridge falling down, brick by brick. Stone by stone. Bone by bone.

  And in the bed, the man under the covers had opened his eyes, deep in their sockets, but with recognition shining deep in there somewhere. Somewhere.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing, the myth is a real thing. A real myth, I mean. It can be found in Bulgaria folklore and the blog referenced here is a legitimate post that exists right here -- https://kit7en.tumblr.com/post/174910634262/of-bridges-and-shadows It's a widely unstudied part of the folklore which is why it's virtually impossible to find any sources. Yay.


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